Bluest Blue
by Vendelyn Silverhawk
Summary: It has been six months since what the media is calling "The Reichenbach Fall" and Luna has been locked in a comfortable "therapeutic environment" (an asylum) after grief for her lost love drives her mad. None of the doctors in white can help her, but the one in the blue box looks promising. Next stop? Everywhere. (Timeline-wise the 4th installment in "The Stars in Her Eyes" series)


**A/N: **So... i've made a lot of promises. OBviously, my procrastination has reached the level of absurd at this point, which is why the "Promise" sequel is still not past the initial stages of planning, and why i have made no further mention of my lovelock story (which has been expanded into two stories, a first and a sequel). Consider this an apology- the first chapter of my Harry Potter/Sherlock (BBC) crossover will be coming before (or on) Monday and spring break will hopefully give me the chance to kickstart the story and get ahead so that i can keep updating once school resumes.

Now, to explain this story- this like an epilogue for both of my yet-to-be-written stories centering around Luna and Sherlock, but it really isn't that big of a spoiler as far as the plot goes. Once those two stories are done and fully connected to this one, i will be launching a series set after this little snippet. So, enjoy this random excerpt from the middle of a yet unfinished series that suddenly evolved into two multi-chapter fics and a sequel to this one-shot in the past five minutes. the going will be slow, but bear with me and i hope you enjoy this taste of what is to come!

-**BREAK**-

Warm sunlight filters through the leaves on the spindly garden trees, their pale trunks and branches curling up in gentle spirals that remind Luna of bones. Her pale eyelashes flutter as the emerald light is thrown onto her face, coating the parchment pages of the book abandoned in her lap with green like the vivid paints she used to smudge across the canvases once scattered around their flat.

The rings meant to be exchanged that fateful day rest against her collarbone, staying cool to the touch despite hours in the sun.

Suddenly not feeling so warm, Luna shifts so that she is directly in a patch of sunlight and sighs as her blood begins to heat up again. Her face grows warm until she can almost imagine that it is from a blush in her cheeks, but she fools no one. She hasn't shown any physical signs of emotion since that night, hasn't smiled or blushed or laughed. There is simply no reason to.

In the middle of the peaceful garden surrounded by a white picket fence, the busy streets of London just beyond its tranquil borders, no one notices the sad young woman who looks too heartbroken for her brief 28 years of life. Falling across her shoulders and down to her waist in a messy braid, perhaps one or two of the young men walking by notice the way the sunlight turns her white-blonde hair into something akin to spun gold, or how the stark violet of her eyelids when she closes her impossibly blue eyes and angles her head up to soak up the sun are bright and probably just as soft as a flower's petals. A little girl walks by and tells her mother to look at the sad princess in the garden, and when she follows her daughter's eyes the middle-aged matron quickly hurries them on. Luna's soft pink lips are better suited for laughing, and look eerie when set in such a dour expression, too sad for a mother on a day trip with her child.

Luna's bright eyes wander from the book whose pages haven't been turned in hours, and are caught by something blue out of the corner of her eye. There- just beyond the fence!

A box as blue as an evening summer sky, her favorite color of blue- the blue of her eyes, Sherlock would probably say. Luna hasn't seen a police box in years, and only remembers ever seeing one before; when she was very small and her mother was still alive. A memory tugs at the corner of her mind, painful yet insistent.

_Her father didn't listen when she tried to tell him that the phone on the police box was fake. Laughing, her mother said that Luna would never need to use one anyway. Though her parents let her be, she overheard her father saying that he would have to call the city to warn them of the malfunctioning phone. _

Gaze wandering back inside the confines of the garden, Luna sees the angel with hands over its face- it is weeping- and wonders if the doctors consider identifying with inanimate objects to be another sign of madness.

Still, it is funny; Luna hasn't wept since that night with Watson right after they heard the news. It seems so surreal, but the chain around her neck is proof of her life before this place. Before the rope seemed so tempting and Watson had said she wasn't the same, when Mrs. Hudson called the ambulance and psychologists whispered to one another that she was a danger to herself and others. Luna supposes a suicide attempt and seeing her dead fiancee will do that to someone.

"I never cried, you know." Luna tells the angel. Her brows knit together in confusion, pale blue eyes clouding with despair. "He was my savior, my knight- we were going to be married. And I only cried once. Once for my true love. Does that make me as crazy as they say I am?"

The angel does not reply, and Luna's concentration is broken by the sound of footsteps beside her. Probably a staff member come to take her back inside before she begins to become "overly anxious" or makes the situation too "stressful" for herself. Standing, Luna wraps the white shawl tighter around her sickly thin frame and sighs; she stopped fighting once she realized that these peoples' intolerance for the mentally unstable wins out over their feigned kindness. It's easier just to do what they say, swallow her pills, eat, drink, sleep, stay alive. She's been too tired to fight it for so long.

"Not crazy," a soft voice whispers in her ear. Luna whirls around and comes face to face with a quirky-looking young man who is most definitely _not _a staff member. He smiles beneath the bright red fez as he takes her pale hand in his. "Talking to a statue that is possibly a weeping angel is _definitely _crazy, but that one looks decidedly not-evil, just as you are decidedly not crazy, Luna Lovegood. You just need a doctor."

"I'm afraid I've rather had enough of doctors. The ones here aren't very good at their jobs." Luna is amazed that anything comes out of her voice at all, considering how long it has been since she last spoke to anyone. How long _has_ it been? Looking into this odd man's eyes Luna finds that she cannot remember a lot of things. Like the last time Watson or Mrs. Hudson came to visit, how long she has been in the garden, and if the angel statue has been in the clump of ferns all along or if she just imagined that it was by the rose bushes.

"Well, no offense to them, but they aren't me." The man- _The Doctor,_ and again Luna cannot remember how she knows this- squeezes her hand tight, his cocky attitude somehow reassuring. "You are sad, Luna Lovegood- too sad for your own good. For anyone's good, actually! Also, I was wrong about that statue- are you up for some running?"

Luna blinks, slowly, and tries to process all the words; too many words with too little air and not enough time.

"I know it's not fun, but you have the whole of time and space ahead of you- any time, anywhere, so long as it makes you smile again. If that weeping angel touches you it'll only be one time, and probably not a very fun one."

Luna has no idea what a weeping angel is, or how time travel and teleportation are possible, but when The Doctor smiles something small and incredibly weak lifts up its head to the sunlight trapped in that smile. Straightening his bow-tie, Luna nods, and the winter in her soul begins to thaw.

When they jump the white picket fence Luna feels like she has wings on her feet, heart soaring as they head towards his box of bluest blue and his hand warms in hers. She has no idea _who _he is, but there is no mistaking _what _he is.

He is a madman with a blue box, and he is going to take her everywhere.

_review! _

**and look out for lovelock, coming soon (Monday)!**


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